Shadows and Light (22 page)

“Well?” Adolfo asked softly, his doe-brown eyes giving no hint of what he was thinking.

Ubel bowed his head. “We failed, Master. That bastard eluded us. He shouldn’t have been able to, but he did.”

“It was a sound plan,” Adolfo said quietly, calmly. “Even if you didn’t receive my consent before starting it.”

Ubel accepted the gentle-sounding reprimand, knowing that, even crippled, Adolfo could inflict a harsh punishment. But it angered him. He wasn’t an apprentice
Inquisitor. More often than not, especially in these last few months, he’d made his own decisions about what needed to be done, had given orders to other Inquisitors. He’d never been reprimanded for it — until now. That, too, was one more thing he was going to lay at Baron Liam’s doorstep, one more thing the baron would pay for.

“It was a sound plan,” Adolfo said again. “Why didn’t it work?”

“He had help,” Ubel replied, resentment swelling inside him. “First with avoiding the guards who had waited for him at his club, then in getting out of the city.”

“Who?”

At least he could offer that much. “Padrick, the Baron of Breton.”

Adolfo poured a glass of wine, drank slowly. “So. There will be two barons missing from council later today. Probably not enough to change the outcome, not after that young bastard’s speech yesterday, but it means we can’t afford to have any other barons becoming indisposed right before the vote. That would cause too much talk, too much speculation of the wrong kind.” Setting the glass on the table, he reached down, pulled up a bag, and dropped it on the table.

Ubel heard the
clink
of shifting coins.

“There’s nothing we can do about the coming vote, but that doesn’t mean we can’t take care of other problems,” Adolfo said. “Send four men to Willowsbrook.”

Ubel smiled.

Adolfo shook his head. “We’ll prepare the ground this time. Ripen the people until they’re ready to listen. No one is to go near the baron’s family. Three of the men will draw as much magic as they can from the land and turn it back on the baron’s estate and the village. The other will find a reason to spend time in the village tavern and use his Inquisitor’s gift to plant a few thoughts in the minds of the people around him. By the time he leaves, I want the
tavern owner to be certain that the cause of the village’s sudden ills is because the young baron is too weak — or too bewitched — to act against those who are the Evil One’s servants, and the Evil One has found a place to take root. Let him fight against his own people’s fears and troubles. That will keep him occupied for the time being.”

“And the other baron? What about him?”

Adolfo reached for his glass, took a sip. “He must be punished for interfering with us. You’ll see to it personally, Ubel. Take five men to assist you. I want no mistakes this time.” He sipped again. “It doesn’t matter if the four men reach Willowsbrook before the young baron, but it’s important that you reach Breton before Baron Padrick. If he’s still helping the whelp, he’ll be delayed a couple more days, so you shouldn’t have any trouble arriving ahead of him if you ride hard. I want it done and all of you gone before he returns home.”

“And what is it you’d like done, Master?”

“Give his people a gift that flies in the dark. Then find out what is most dear to him — and destroy it.”

W
ith Aiden beside her, Lyrra rode toward the mist at the edge of the world. Rolling hills, sparkling streams — they vanished into that wall of white that defined the borders of each Clan’s territory. Islands of land that had been created out of dreams and will, according to the entries the Crones in Ari’s family had written in their journals. Islands that were anchored to the human world by threads of magic the Fae called the shining roads — and anchored to each other by shining threads of magic they called bridges.

She’d never wondered how the bridges could shorten the distance between one Clan’s territory and another, how it was possible to cover the same distance in a few minutes that would require a half-day’s ride in the human world. It was part of the magic of her world that she’d simply accepted, like the rest of Tir Alainn.

She looked at the mist and the two shining arches that indicated the two bridges that connected this Clan to others.

Aiden reined in, studied the two arches, then looked at her. “We can still change our minds.”

Lyrra pressed her lips together. They’d talked about this last night. Both bridges led to Clans that were northeast of here. One bridge connected with the Clan that was a good day’s ride from this place; the other connected to the Clan that would be a two-day journey in the human world.

She didn’t like the longer bridges. Never had liked them. It took a few minutes to ride the shining road to the human world. It took thrice that long to cross even the shortest
bridge, when all you had beneath you was a wide, shining path that created a tunnel through the mist. It took thrice again that long to cross one of the longer bridges. It felt so much longer when you were riding through that tunnel in the mist, watching for that archway on the other side. She didn’t want to take that long bridge, but even using those shining threads as much as possible, it was still a long journey to the west, and the days were bleeding by so fast. The Summer Moon had come and gone last night, and every day it took them to find the Hunter was another day when more witches — and more Clans — might be lost.

“We need to swing around the Mother’s Hills as quickly as possible in order to head southwest. We’re of one mind in that.” She waited for Aiden’s nod of agreement. “Lucian took the bridge to the neighboring Clan early this morning. If we ride in after him, it will just be the same scene as yesterday. Since we’re both heading north to go around the hills, we’ll continue having the same scene. The long bridge will cut two days off the journey — and put us ahead of Lucian. Last night that seemed like the best choice. It still does.”

“All right, then,” Aiden said, still studying the shining arches. “Let’s not waste the time by sitting here.” He gave his horse the signal to move on, the packhorse obediently following behind him.

When he reached the arch to the long bridge, his horse snorted, danced a little.

“Easy boy,” Aiden soothed. “Easy. It’s just another bridge. You’ve seen hundreds by now.” Coaxing but firm, he urged the horse forward, rode into that tunnel through the mist.

Lyrra followed. Her hands tightened on the reins when her mare tensed and planted its feet as soon as it was on the bridge, refusing to go forward.

“Follow Aiden,” Lyrra said quietly. “Follow the others. You don’t want to be left behind, do you?”

After another moment’s hesitation, the mare trotted forward, expressing its unhappiness about being on the bridge with a gait so rough Lyrra clenched her teeth to keep from biting her tongue.

They hadn’t gone that far when they caught up to Aiden and the packhorse. In fact — she looked back over her shoulder — she could still see the archway that led to the Clan territory they’d just left.

The animals shifted uneasily, as if they didn’t like what was under their feet. Aiden stared at the tunnel ahead of them, frowning.

He handed the packhorse’s lead to Lyrra. “Stay here. I want to ride up ahead just a bit.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lyrra said quickly.

Aiden gave her a look that silenced further protests. “Stay here.”

She watched him trot away from her, then became occupied with getting her mare to stand. When she looked up again, tendrils of mist drifted across the shining bridge.

Her mouth went dry, making it impossible to swallow. Her heart began beating fast and hard. Then .

“Lyrra! Go back, Lyrra!
Go back!”

Aiden’s voice sounded oddly muted, but she heard fear in it — and something close to panic.

She turned her mare, aimed the animal for the archway, and dug her heels into the mare’s sides.

The mare leaped forward into a headlong gallop, the packhorse matching the pace.

Lyrra glanced back, almost lost her balance.

Stay ahead of him. Stay ahead of him. He’ll hesitate if you start flagging
.

She screamed. In terror. In defiance. She wasn’t sure. But the sound of her voice, so raw and primal, produced another burst of speed from the mare and the packhorse.

Aiden was behind her, his horse galloping flat out. And behind him .

A silent avalanche of mist filling the tunnel, rushing toward them. The shining bridge disappearing under it. And Aiden barely a length ahead of it.

She felt the difference in the mare’s pace, felt how the animal was suddenly working for each stride, as if they’d hit a patch of boggy ground.

She emptied her mind of everything but the archway, so close now but still just out of reach.

Closer. Closer.

The mare and packhorse shot through the archway into the perfect morning light that bathed Tir Alainn.

Lyrra reined in hard a few lengths away from the bridge, then twisted around in her saddle.

The tunnel started collapsing near the archway, but she could make out the dark shape of a horse and rider.

Almost there. Almost there. Aiden Aiden Aiden
.

She saw the horse gather itself to leap for the firm safe ground ahead. She heard Aiden’s cry, as raw and primal as hers had been. She saw the shine that had been the bridge vanish just as the horse leaped.

The horse’s forelegs landed solidly on the ground of Tir Alainn. But the hind legs .

One back hoof touched the edge of the world. Slipped as the edge crumbled.

Nothing under those back hooves now. Nothing but mist.

Aiden kicked out of the stirrups, dove for the land in front of him. He hit the edge at his waist, dug his fingers into the ground to find something,
anything
, to hold on to as the edge crumbled and he slid back into the mist.

The horse flailed for another moment before it fell into the mist, screaming in terror.

Lyrra tumbled out of the saddle in her haste to dismount and reach Aiden. She dropped the mare’s reins and the packhorse’s rope and ran toward him.

More of the ground beneath Aiden suddenly crumbled. He kept fighting to find a hold in Tir Alainn while the weight of his own body pulled him down, until only his head, shoulders, and arms were visible.

“Lyrra … don’t,” he gasped when she dropped to her knees in front of him and reached out to grab one of his wrists. “You can’t … hold me.”

“I can.
I will”

“You…” He looked beyond her. She twisted around.

Two riders cantering toward them. Two Fae males.

“Help us!” she shouted, waving her arms to get their attention.
“Help!”

The riders stopped. Stared at Aiden for a moment. Turned around and cantered back the way they’d come.

Lyrra stared at them. They’d seen her and Aiden. They’d
seen
.

“I love you,” Aiden gasped. “Remember that.”

“I’m
not
going to lose you.” Lyrra surged to her feet. Ran to the horses. Grabbing the reins and the lead rope, she pulled the horses as close as she dared. She made a hasty knot in the end of the lead rope, hoping it would be enough. There wasn’t time to make a loop.

She saw Aiden slip a little more.

Getting as close as she could, fearing that any moment more of the edge would crumble, she held out the lead rope, dangling it next to his left hand.

“Grab the rope, Aiden. Grab the rope.” When he hesitated, she screamed at him, “If you go over the edge, I’ll leap with you!”

He grabbed the rope with his left hand.

“Hold on,” Lyrra panted. “Hold on.” She forced herself to move quietly toward the nervous horses, her own nerves shrieking to
move move move
.

She grabbed the mare’s reins. Tied them to the rope. Closed her hands over the knot. “Back up now. Back!”

Aiden’s face was contorted with pain, fear, and the effort to hold the rope as the horses slowly pulled him out of the mist.

His left hand started to slip. Letting go of his tenuous hold of the ground, he grabbed the rope with his right hand. The move turned him on his side.

More of the edge crumbled beneath him.

“Back!” Lyrra cried, pulling with the horses. “Back!
Back!”

His chest now rested on solid ground. His hips. His knees.

Lyrra pulled with the horses. Pulled and pulled until Aiden’s feet were an arm’s length from the edge.

He let go of the rope. Rolled onto his belly and crawled a bit farther before he collapsed.

It took her a moment to open her hands and let go of the reins and the rope. Once she did, she ran to him, tears streaming down her face.

“Aiden. Aiden.” She touched his shoulder.

With a moan that was almost a sob, he rolled over.

A hawk screamed.

Looking up, Lyrra saw it dive toward them, then backwing until it landed on the ground and changed shape.

Falco ran over to them, dropped to his knees beside Aiden.

“What happened?” he said. “Are you hurt, Lyrra? Aiden, can you speak? How bad is it?”

“The — the bridge collapsed,” Lyrra said.

Falco frowned, looked over at the place where the archway had been. “Why were you attempting to use the long bridge when you knew it was unstable?”

Fear changed to anger in a heartbeat. “How could we know it was unstable?” Lyrra snapped.

“We were told,” Falco said, staring at her in confusion. “Something started weakening the bridge about a fortnight ago, and the Clan has been warning guests not to use it to
travel to the other Clan territories. The Clan matriarchs mentioned it when I arrived.”

“They didn’t tell us,” Lyrra said. “They didn’t mention it when we arrived yesterday. They didn’t mention it this morning when they came into the common room where Aiden and I were having something to eat.”

“They didn’t —”Falco paled. “Why would they do that?”

“Because they’re Fae,” Aiden said softly, bitterly. He raised one arm to cover his closed eyes — but not before Lyrra saw the single tear escape. “If the Bard disappeared in the mist while using a bridge they’d warned him not to take, who would be inconvenienced? Another with the gift would ascend to become the Lord of Song, and perhaps the next one wouldn’t be so insistent about playing the same wearisome tune about protecting the witches.”